


More To Love

by MarigoldVance



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dating, FiKiWeek2020, Getting Together, Insecurity, M/M, Online Dating, Past breakups, Prompt Fill, author!Kíli, chef!Fíli, chubby!Kili, fili/kili are not related
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldVance/pseuds/MarigoldVance
Summary: When Tauriel discovered Kíli's online dating profile, she decided to take matters into her own hands. With a little bit of love and a lot of coercion, she manages to convince Kíli to let her help him find areal connectionwith someone who will appreciate all he has to offer.Kíli can only hope her meddling doesn't end in hellfire and Armageddon.ORKíli has been single for far too long and his best friend thinks it's about time he get out there for real, away from the sites that promise nothing more than cheap hookups and one-night stands.
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15
Collections: FiKi Week 2020





	More To Love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Opposites Attract](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10856694) by [Pigeonpost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeonpost/pseuds/Pigeonpost). 



> for the prompt: " _Romance_ "
> 
> **TW** : if you have suffered from insecurity or emotional trauma due to weight, this may not be the story for you, my darling. while i don't believe anything herein could be considered " **fatphobic** " or " **sizeism** ", your interpretation might not necessarily align with my intention. please proceed with care - xx

Kíli. Was Happy.

He _was._

Very.

Fine. Maybe he wasn’t sitting at the peak of happiness, but he was a great deal above sea level, at least climbing the right mountain, at an altitude ranging between ‘not at all’ and ‘remarkably’. Right in the middle, at a base camp of ‘sufficiently’.

Leaned back in his desk chair, swiveling to and fro in a parody of being _rockabye baby_ ’d and nursing his third latte of the day in both hands, Kíli contemplated his twenty-six years of life and decided, with some sort of unnecessary finality, that, yes, he was definitely ‘sufficiently happy’.

Kíli was an author, a reasonably successful one who’d won medals and prizes and a shelf-full of awards. He wrote fantasy of all kinds, worked morning til evening five days a week, for the routine, in an office he rented in the back of a bookstore that sat on the corner of Cherrybrooke and Maine. Much of his time was spent doing research and rearranging plots as the characters developed themselves. Truly, Kíli loved what he did, was passionate about his work, even on the days when he wanted to launch his computer into orbit and use his notes as kindling.

Once in awhile, if his schedule and his mental stability allowed for it, he’d even do his own illustrations.

He lived on a country road twenty minutes outside of Dale, in a house that had been there long before the town itself had been established. It was charming and lived-in and cluttered to high heaven, but it was _his_ and Kíli treasured every creaky floorboard and ancient, groan-rusty door hinge. His neighbors were pleasant and far enough away that Kíli didn’t have to worry about how loud he listened to his stereo, and there were enough projects to keep him busy when he needed something besides his writing to occupy him. The property itself was woody around a long cut of lawn behind the house and there was a barn beside it that Kíli was determined to renovate; spruce up and turn into an apartment worth renting to make some extra income.

To get him to and from town, Kíli owned a truck that had seen better days but drove the uneven dirt roads without trouble. People recognized the rumble of the engine whenever he pulled up, able to turn to one another and say, “ _Ohp, here ‘e comes_!” without discussing lumbering footfalls or an ample belly rounding the corner before a boot. Now, what you may not know, and what Kíli would openly tell you, is that that was something worth Kíli's satisfaction. You see, children had been nasty when Kíli was in school; Kíli had been the biggest in his class – cuddly and circle-shaped, like the Blueberry Girl in that movie he’d watched at a friend’s one time. Money had been tight – that is to say, _siphoned elsewhere_ – and Kíli had grown up on comfort-food-gourmet: macaroni and cheese from the box, drive-thru combos and a variety of casseroles. Cookies and crisps and pints of ice cream. His mother placated him with food whenever he made a fuss or wanted attention she couldn’t spare because she was alone and overworked and _so fucking tired, baby, I’m sorry_.

Things had changed since then; _Kíli_ had changed, grown into a body that could wear the extra weight without it being too embarrassing, but the jeering cruelty from his childhood still throbbed like an old wound when he remembered it. Perhaps that was why he was having trouble wrapping his head around what he was being forced to examine ...

Whatever, all that was then and this was now and Kíli circled back to the thoughts he'd been trawling through; how all the recognizable figures in Dale had _their thing_ : Faramir had that damn rooster that woke all the houses in the cluster where he lived. Bombur had the smell of spices that wafted ahead of him, preceding his arrival, seeped into his pores and never to go away. Bofur had his laugh that anyone could hear from anyplace, no matter how dense the crowd or how wide the area in between. Rosie had the high-pitched squeals of her five apple-cheeked children (and how that hell had that happened? She was barely older than Kíli!) to announce her entrance.

And Kíli, a recognizable figure himself, was known for his rumbly engine and no longer the size of his waist.

Aside from work, his home and his truck, Kíli had two very close friends who he considered family – Tauriel, who currently took up a sliver of space across from him, and Sam – and a bushel of acquaintances he enjoyed the company of whenever he saw them. He preferred his couch and his cooking to pub nights, a homebody at heart, but he made an exception now and again for certain celebrations.

So, yes, Kíli was quite steadfast in his belief that he was, in fact, ninety-nine percent _sufficiently happy_. Which made this whole encounter feel more like harassment than _whatever she’s calling it_.

“An intervention, Kíli.” Tauriel clarified, hands on her hips and eyes no-nonsense narrow. “I wouldn’t barge in here on a Wednesday just to attack your life choices for no reason.”

“Whatever trendy thing the kids are calling it these days, Tauri, doesn’t make it feel any cooler.”

Tauriel rolled her eyes to the ceiling and back down again, landing them on Kíli like the crack of a whip. “For goodness’ sake, it’s a _suggestion_ —”

“That I’m declining.”

“—that you haven’t even heard out!” Tauriel said, crossing and uncrossing her arms in frustration before finally throwing them in the air. Somehow, she looked as regal as a princess even in the middle of a composed, adult ‘fluster’. Tauriel glared when she had to correct what he’d accidentally said aloud, “I am not having a tantrum, Kíli, I’m _concerned_.”

Kíli, to his credit, remained twisting himself back and forth in his chair, calm as a cucumber despite the subject of their discu—deba— _argument_. “Of course.” He took a slurpy sip of his latte.

With a resigned sigh, Tauriel stepped toward him and crouched down, placing a hand on his knee and squeezing in what Kíli supposed was comfort or solidarity or something that would make Kíli feel less miserable about her motives for dredging up the reality of his rather decayed love life.

See, while Kíli was _sufficiently happy_ and had most aspects of his life well in hand, sex and romance weren’t … well, they were nonexistent at present, is what they were, and they had been for quite an alarming span of time (according to Tauriel’s expression when he’d confessed it earlier).

Kíli was, for lack of a better term: Painfully. Single.

Not to say he didn’t enjoy the occasional flirtation when the opportunity smacked him like a dead fish to the face. He was a hot-blooded man in his sexual prime, _of course_ he leapt on it at full throttle if someone tipped their attention at him the right way (read: outright and obviously with perfectly articulated consent and reassurance that, yes mate, I mean _you_ \- not him or her or that guy, you). Rosie’s inn often accommodated cute pass-throughs; college road-trippers and silver fox bikers, company men coming or going from the city forty-five minutes away. Once, Tauriel’s cousin, Legolas, one New Year’s Eve. They’d been fizzy-brained and blushing from champagne and fell into each other at midnight. The kiss turned into groping turned into Rosie slipping Kíli a key to one of her vacant rooms.

Kíli had seen Legolas once or twice since; at Tauriel and Éowyn’s wedding and at another town event Legolas had been invited to attend. Neither had tried to spark anything more than friendly conversation and that suited Kíli just fine.

It did.

Really.

Though he had nothing substantial to share, Kíli certainly hadn’t been as idle as Tauriel was making it seem he’d been. The problem with people in love, Kíli surmised, was that they often believed it was the only way for _everyone else_ to achieve the same state of nirvana they, themselves, experienced being one complete half of a whole. Kíli didn’t need another whole. He liked his own, individual whole, thank you very much. It was a good, steady, secure whole that could never disappoint him.

“Leave my whole alone.” Kíli groused, all pouty lips and frowny brows.

Tauriel couldn’t figure that out with all the science available so she chose to ignore it entirely with what appeared to be a head spasm and said, “It’s a good idea. One that I _swear_ I’ve thought through a dozen times and not a single time has the worst been anything more than a mild case of ‘ _oh well_ ’.”

“I just don’t see the point.”

“Well, I can!”

“I love that you care, I really do—”

“Don’t you ‘but’ me Kíli, don’t you dare!”

“I’m not going to ‘but’ you.”

“You are, I can sense it. I know when you’re about to ‘but’ and that was you about to ‘but’.”

Kíli considered his words carefully before he picked up the frayed end of his side of the conversation and continued, “ _However_ —”

“ _Oh_ , I could kill you.” Tauriel groaned and rubbed her eyelids, surely smearing her impeccably applied makeup.

“ _However_ ,” Kíli plowed on, “I’m perfectly fine! I don’t need your meddling.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and rubbed down to her upper arms, mimicking the squeeze-of-deeper-meaning she’d given him moments ago. “I like how things are right now.”

“You’re _comfortable_. That’s not the same as being happy.” Tauriel insisted as she rose to move toward the other side of the cramped room, trailing her fingers across a row of books on one of the shelves. The owner kept many books in storage back there, Kíli’s office having previously been used for that purpose before it had been decluttered and rearranged.

“What got you all …?” Kíli flapped a hand at her, hoping to encompass what he was trying to say with the gesture.

“Motivated?” Tauriel smiled cheekily. “I saw it, Kíli.” Kíli’s brows pinched in question, “I saw your bloody profile on that dating website.”

Kíli’s eyes widened to the point he was sure he’d lost his lashes in his hairline, “How!?”

Tauriel moved back to him, folded her arms and popped out a hip, brow arched, “Let’s just say it was brought to my attention by another concerned party.”

“Sam.” Kíli hissed through his teeth, clenching a fist and promising to murder his best friend when they next saw each other.

“Doesn’t matter who. What I’m trying to get at is that you shouldn’t have to bother with sites like that when there are fit, available men right under your nose.”

“Who you’re going to set me up with.” The punctuation didn’t matter, Kíli knew where Tauriel was going with this.

“Just one or two. And if you hate them, I swear, you can go about your business on _Find A Schlong dot com_ —”

“You _know_ that’s not what it’s called.”

“—and sell yourself on the internet, for all I care.” Tauriel spoke over him, her expression pleading. “Please, Kíli, give me a chance to find you a _real_ connection before you lose yourself to emotionless hookups and basement trolls.”

“Oi! They’re not all creepers!”

Tauriel gave Kíli an unimpressed look.

“ _I’m_ on there and I’m not a basement troll or fuckboy!”

“Exactly why you shouldn’t be on there in the first place.”

“Ye of little faith.”

“I think you mean, ‘ye of greater faith’.” Tauriel emended. “You’re better than those websites and I wish you would realize that. But!” She clapped her hands, “Until you do, I’ll realize it for you. Come on, Kíli, what do you say? Delete it for now and, if I fail, you can put your profile back up and do whatever you want.”

They remained in silence as Kíli mulled over Tauriel’s proposal.

On the one hand, she always did have his best interests at heart; she would never intentionally throw him to the wolves. On the other, she couldn’t always predict who the wolves were. She was beautiful and successful and warm as Spring; people always did their best to please her without her asking. They wouldn’t admit to her even their tamest of flaws unless it was something pretentious like, _I work too hard_ or _I’m an overachiever_.

“Well,” Kíli finally said, “You couldn’t fail as horribly as Noah did with the unicorns so … ” He paused, wondering how magnificently someone as successful and wonderful as Tauriel could fail. If she ever failed at all. He deflated a breath from his cheeks through pursed lips, as unsure as he was the day he threw caution to the wind and began a career as a full-time author. “I guess I’m open to it.”

Tauriel laughed, an excited, tinkling thing, and threw herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Thank you for trusting me, my little unicorn.”

“Don’t start.”

Kíli really hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

**Author's Note:**

> i know, i know, i'm sorry for the not-an-update ˘\\_( õ ‹3 ó)_/˘ i struggled to write the second chapter (which i'd developed, in detail, in my head). i just ... i couldn't hear Kee's voice anymore. he didn't make sense and i couldn't live with that; the story stalled. so, here we are, and i'm far more confident about _this_ Kee and the whys and hows of his insecurities. **thank you so much** to those who left Kudos and Comments before, and i hope you enjoy the new direction i have in mind for this fic!


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